


Gun Hoe

by Spoon888



Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Consent Issues, Gun Kink, Inappropriate Use Of A Weapon, M/M, Object Penetration, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Why Is Starscream Like This
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 22:18:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13668450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoon888/pseuds/Spoon888
Summary: Megatron becomes trapped in his alt-mode. Starscream...Starscream does the opposite of help.





	Gun Hoe

**Author's Note:**

> It's Valentines Day tomorrow so I'm here to ruin that for everyone with senseless perversion.

Starscream bashed the base of the gun hard against the counter once, twice, _three times_ before Soundwave was wrestling it out of his servos.

"Desist!"

"I'm _helping_!" Starscream snarled, but lost the battle to Soundwave's superior strength.

They were alone in the Control Centre, monitors on standby and the rank-and-files encouraged onto an early break. This was a delicate situation, one they had never encountered before.

It was the stuff of Starscream's deepest darkest fantasies.

Megatron was _stuck_.

Stuck in his uselessly inanimate alt-mode with no way of speaking, moving, or expressing himself in any viable way whatsoever. Not exactly of much use as a leader. Naturally, Starscream assumed command.

And as leader he was well within his rights to declare his first act to be tossing Megatron down the trash shoot.

Soundwave said no.

Which is why his _second_ act would have been to demote and banish Soundwave- had that not gone much the way of the first.

"Megatron still functions." Said Soundwave loudly, cradling their leader between his servos. "No harm shall befall him before we are able to procure a new transformation cog from Cybertron."

Starscream snorted and went to take the gun back. Soundwave held Megatron away from him.

"Excuse me?!" Starscream squawked, "In this state Megatron is _my_ responsibility. I don't recall _you_ being authorised to handle him. That's what got us into this in the first place, isn't it?"

Soundwave's visor dimmed. He looked down at his immobile leader sadly.

Yes, he knew Starscream was right. They were in this predicament because Megatron was a stubborn idiot and, after having lost an argument to Starscream about the illogicality of his most recent plot, had decided to act like a complete infantile and had refused to cooperate with Starscream during the subsequent battle against the Autobots.

Their fool of a leader had transformed and jumped into the servos of Motormaster, of all mechs, and the blockheaded Stunticon lasted all of two minutes in the fight before being blasted in the back.

The unseen blaster bolt had knocked Motormaster unconscious, but Megatron, in his hand, was damaged far more permanently.

It had been very difficult for Starscream to pretend he was anything other than delighted.

"Need I remind you again, that our leader needs a competent warrior to watch his back," Starscream announced, snatching Megatron back out of Soundwave's servos, knowing he'd made his point. "When is Shockwave sending the new T-Cog?"

"As soon as possible," Soundwave carefully watched Starscream wrap his fingers around Megatron's grip, looking out for misconduct. "It is expected come morning."

"Wonderful." Starscream tried not to sound so sarcastic. "In the mean time, I need rest."

Soundwave lifted an arm to stop him, vocaliser catching. "Lord Megatron-?"

"-Is coming with me." Starscream twisted and spat. He held Megatron up to his face, muzzle pointed to the ceiling, and asked his leader. "You don't object, do you?"

Starscream felt the pistol shudder beneath his digits, but it was incapable of giving a verbal response.

"See?"

Soundwave bowed his helm and Starscream heard no further protests as he headed back to his quarters, Megatron hanging from his servo by his thigh.

 

* * *

 

Starscream tossed Megatron on the nearest available surface as he entered his quarters. It just so happened to be his berth. He was content to let his guest lie for now though, his processor ticking over possible plans.

Shockwave will have sent over the new transformation cog come sunrise so he only had a short window in which to act. Sabotaging any attempt at repairs would prove less suspicious than outright deactivating Megatron in his vulnerable state and if he turned up tomorrow morning claiming to have 'misplaced' everyone's precious leader he was going to be considerably less than popular.

So sabotage it was.

The question was how long he could derail Soundwave's attempts at restoring their leader and if that would be enough time for him to come up with a more long-term solution.

He turned to consider the gun cushioned atop his berth covers.

"You're wondering what I'm going to do to you." He gave the gun a confident look, wondering what Megatron could see of him like this.

Megatron, predictably, didn't respond to his attempt at baiting.

Irritated, and unsure why, Starscream swept him off the berth, grip harsh around the handle, index finger well clear of the trigger. "It won't be quick. I can assure you of that, at least."

The metal was cool against his palm, as chilled as Megatron's own opinion of him. But his leader fit well in his servo -was a practical weight for battle. A pity. He always had enjoyed welding his leader's alt-mode. Perhaps they didn't have to part ways, not yet at least.

"I might keep you like this." He said, like a threat.

He felt the smallest shudder against his servo. Finally, a reaction.

"Oh, you don't want to?" Starscream looked straight at Megatron, tone mocking. "And here I thought I would be merciful. I could let you keep some sense of purpose after I have you locked into permanent stasis. A new T-Cog won't help that now, will it?"

Megatron stilled, but Starscream could swear the battery was heating against his palm. He tapped Megatron's muzzle against the bulkhead lightly.

"I'll think on it anyway." He said generously, letting Megatron drop back to his berth with a dull 'thump', "Serve me in battle, or spend the next five million years sat on a shelve, watching me on your throne, ruling better than you ever could."

The gun lay in stubborn silence, and Starscream scoffed, leaving him to it. He had work to do.

* * *

 

  
Starscream shoved the last of his blueprints under the false bottom of a desk drawer, rubbing at stinging optics. He was exhausted, but it wasn't often that fate dealt him such a generous hand. He would catch up on missed recharge when Megatron was little more than a weapon to do as he bid.

He dropped to his berth for a quick break. There were just a couple hours before the corridors emptied for the graveyard shift and he could sneak down to Medical unseen. Sabotage was delicate business, and he needed to ensure everything that could go wrong tomorrow, would do.

Megatron lay somewhere to his left. The backs of Starscream's digits brushed the warm frame of the gun. It shuddered.

Starscream lifted his helm, glancing at it curiously. It lay still now that it had his attention, but Starscream knew that against all common sense his trapped idiot of a leader was attempting to transform back anyway. He should have just laughed and slapped the stupid thing to the floor.

He snatched Megatron up, holding him between two servos above his helm. The metal shone in the overhead lighting. He dragged his digit around the rim of the muzzle. It was hot with unspent charge.

He knew Megatron could refuse to fire when triggered manually. Could the opposite be true?

"Would you kill me now, if you could?" Starscream asked him, finger still tracing the rim. He wondered absently if he was about to lose a digit. His thumb rubbed over the grip. It was a nice texture, sleek and warm and-

"No, I don't think you could." He decided and calling his own bluff, turned the pistol on himself.

There was a spark-stopping moment where he imagined a glow of purple light brewing deep within the gun chamber and almost dropped Megatron in a panic. But no blast came.

He huffed, flicking the gun frame and listening to it ping. He felt it shudder.

"Oh don't be like that." He mocked playfully, turning Megatron over in his hands, looping his digit through the trigger guard and making the gun spin. He wondered bizarrely if it would make his leader dizzy. "We could have a lot of fun, you and I."

No response.

Sighing, he lowered the pistol to his cockpit, tapping it against the glass as he contemplated his promising future.

"With my leadership skills, sure aim, and, well, everything; and you with your...." He glanced at Megatron, "Inability to stop me, I'll be sure to lead the Decepticons into victory."

And Megatron was a nice gun. He looked good in Starscream's servo.

"I will keep you." He decided, perhaps against better judgment. But it was tempting, too rich a victory for him to resist, regardless of the risks. "You'll have your uses."

The gun shuddered violently then, almost slipping from Starscream's digits. The vibration was not unpleasant against his cockpit. A little spark of want ignited low in his frame and he frowned, thoughts darkening into something perverse and somewhat wicked.

He needed to relax and Megatron... Megatron probably wouldn't even _know_. And he felt warm and sturdy and just the right size. 

He dragged Megatron's gun-form down his frame, letting the warm barrel tickle at the seams around his hips. He was just teasing. That was all.

Megatron vibrated again.

Starscream exhaled heavily. "You do that as if you want me to..."

Megatron vibrated even more violently. So Starscream pressed him up against his valve cover before he stopped, letting the warmth and stimulation travel through the thin layer of armour and tease at the sensors behind it.

He bit his lip and fought back a groan, thumb rubbing over the grip in encouragement.

"Do it again."

Megatron did. This time with an accompanying pulse of charge, like the pistol was about to fire but powered down last second. His heels dug into the berth top as he bent his legs, thighs opening. It was hot and dangerous and Starscream's panels snapped back shamelessly, even though he was pointing Megatron at himself, even though from this position if his leader could still fire it would be a hideously unpleasant death.

Not not mention, an uncomfortable funeral.

He let the muzzle trace his entrance -teasing himself or Megatron, he didn't even know anymore. He shifted his grip, his palm hot and the gun grip hot and- Megatron shuddered again almost like he wanted Starscream to...

Starscream had always (weirdly, in the rush of the battle, the powerful weapon in his servo) wondered what this would feel like.

He pressed forwards, letting the muzzle slip between his outer folders and run up and down the length of his entrance. As he brushed lightly over his anterior node the gun shuddered again, so Starscream pushed it closer and just let Megatron shake against him. With rage? With _want_? With the desperate need to transform back and beat him into scrap? Who knew.

It felt amazing.

Starscream let his helm drop against the berth, undulating his hips into the sensation. He had starting swirling Megatron deeper, dipping past the soft mesh pleats just enough that he could feel the heat of the charging weapon inside himself.

There was another pulse and Starscream gasped, callipers flexing, and thought 'to Pit with it' as he sunk the weapon deeper, twisting it so all the complex ridges and bumps of the frame nudged as many sensors as they could. The trigger guard rubbed against his anterior node as he moved.

"Oh, I'm definitely keeping you," breathed Starscream, and had to roll onto his front so he could rest the handle of the gun on the berth and hold it in place as he sank onto it. He ground down, gyrating his hips, taking the pistol right down to the curve of it's frame. Megatron felt searingly hot where the charge was running up and down the length of the barrel, teasing him -or threatening him.

Starscream massaged his anterior node under his digits as he began to mimic the motions of an interface, off-lining his optics to imagine riding a bipedal Megatron under him, his spike broad and big, huge servos on his hips leaving dents where they griped.

And it was that thought, and the accompanying deep, almost liquid like rising pulse of the weapon inside him that threw him into an overload. He held Megatron in place, letting his callipers flex and clench around all the intricate details of the barrel and slide. His valve expelled lubricant and he felt it trickle out of him, down Megatron's glisteningly form, slicking the fingers Starscream was gripping him with.

With a sigh he removed Megatron, feeling cool and empty. He flopped face down against his berth and brought the pistol up to view. It lay unassumingly still in his palm, wet and smeared. It was still hot.

Starscream let his thumb stroke over it again, wondering if Megatron could overload in this form. Wondering if he had, and Starscream just hadn't felt it.

That was inconsequential, he told himself.

He halfheartedly wiped Megatron on the covers before tossing him on a pillow besides his helm. He wondered how he should seize this moment- a cutting insult? Some clever gloating comment on how Megatron was no better than a toy? 

He scowled to himself and rolled across the berth, valve still tingling from the warmth of weapon charge and his own overload.

He dragged a pillow into his arms, and held that instead. 

 

* * *

 

  
Starscream woke relaxed and well rested, and then completely panicked because he shouldn't have been recharging. He was supposed to be the medbay, sabotaging the equipment and ensuring that Megatron-

_**Megatron?!** _

Starscream stared at the empty berth next to him with abject horror. There was a faint dent in the covers where the form of a gun had laid. His spark began to spin rapidly, vents speeding up to the point where he thought he was going to suffocate himself.

He dropped off the berth. Checked under it. Ripped off the insulation covers. Threw off the pillows. Checked down the sides. Checked the draws. Checked his own subspace.

Gone. Megatron was gone. And Starscream was dead.

Someone had - _Soundwave!_ It was always Soundwave- Megatron's loyal drone had broken into his private quarters and stolen Megatron back and by now -Starscream checked his chrono. He maybe still had time. Time to stop the medics from replacing that transformation cog and restoring Megatron to functionality so he could specifically come back here and blast Starscream through the wall.

And Starscream was pretty sure he wasn't talking his way out of this one.

He ran up the corridor, then transformed and flew, and then worried about looking even more suspicious and went back to just running. But then realised it wouldn't matter anyway if he was about to die and flew again. He nearly pancaked himself against the medbay doors when they didn't register his arrival fast enough to open automatically. He stubbled over the threshold yelling about Autobot's having sabotaged their equipment and how he was sure the new T-Cog was a bomb.

And came face to face with Megatron.

Or face to powerful armoured chest.

He screamed, alarming every nearby medic but failing to distract Megatron himself enough to prevent his leader from seizing one of his wings as he turned to try and flee. Before he knew it, he was being violently manhandled out of the medbay and away from witnesses.

"I can explain!" Starscream howled, but was being bustled forwards too quickly for him to drop to his knees and beg more convincingly. "I swear! It was an accident. I didn't know it was you!"

Megatron wasn't listening, and didn't seem to have the patience to drag him all the way back to the Command Centre either. They suddenly changed direction, veering right, and Megatron kicked in the door to a small empty office.

Starscream was thrown in ahead. He caught himself against the desk and span around in panic. Thinking this was the end.

Megatron strode forward and seized him around the throat. Starscream knew he was about to be throttled, which was why he was so surprised to be yanked into a kiss instead.

He made a questioning noise around the glossa in his mouth, thinking he should struggle, but then too many things started happening at once for him to fight them.

Megatron hitched him up onto the desk by his thighs. His servos felt huge against Starscream's armour as they spread his legs open and shoved him back. Starscream's wings hit the desk harshly and his helm hung over the edge. His servos started searching the area for a light pen or stapler or anything he might be able to use as a weapon, when a thumb pressed against his valve panel and shoved it back.

His optics widened and he strained to lift his helm. This was Megatron's punishment?

He relented, letting his legs spread open, knowing whatever mutilation or torture was to come would be better than deactivation.

But Megatron didn't break out the shock sticks or the hot iron or any of the horrid imaginings Starscream's treacherous processor had expected. Megatron's face was tense, his jaw ticking where it was clenched as he released his own panel. His spike began to swell to size instantly.

And not a moments notice was given before it was being pressed into him. Starscream hissed, drawing his legs up, letting his thrusters lift into the air. Megatron was thick and hot and everything he had imagined him being. Starscream arched his back and let his leader take him, weathering out the fast, harsh jackhammering thrusts.

He had barely caught up to speed with what was happening when Megatron overloaded with a strangled, desperate noise, optics shuttered and mouth open. He bucked into Starscream greedily, wringing every last bit of pleasure out of him he could, before dropping to braced arms either side of Starscream's shoulders.

Confused, used, a little dented, but otherwise unharmed, Starscream let his legs fall back to the desk. 

"Finally..." Megatron was breathing like he'd just run a marathon, back bent where he was bowed over Starscream. "I needed that..."

Something clicked in Starscream's processor. He had wondered if Megatron could overload in his alt-mode. The answer was now abundantly clear.

He almost didn't say anything for fear of receiving some _real_ punishment; but his valve was tingling, stimulated but unsatisfied. Megatron was already limp and used up. But...

"You always leave the job unfinished?" He asked, almost a whisper.

Megatron's helm snapped up and their gazes locked. There was fury and vengeance and a hundred unpleasant emotions Starscream was going to have to deal with later. But not now.

He forced the tension from his tightly locked frame, sprawling just enough to make it look submissive. It worked. Megatron's lip curved at the corner. Between his legs, his spike twitched.

Starscream rolled onto his front and fluttered his wings, aft up.

Maybe he didn't need to be punished. 

Maybe he could just make his leader forget _all_ about it.

 


End file.
